


A Different Face

by Meaninglessness



Series: Problems with Dating a Metamorphmagus [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Genderbending, M/M, Metamorphmagus, Metamorphmagus Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meaninglessness/pseuds/Meaninglessness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England just wishes he'd understand how his spell turned him into a metamorphmagus. America just wishes that England would stop changing into random people at the most inopportune of moments.</p><p>Established USUK.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Face

One of America's favorite hobbies was to show up at England's house without warning him first. England always complained about it, but that didn't stop America.

In fact, he was doing that now. His boss complained about it, too, since it was a waste of money, but it was worth every cent to be with England this way.

"England!" America announced himself the same way he always did. Obnoxious and annoying, England would say, but when did that ever stop America? "Hey, dude, where are you!?" He added, not seeing the older nation in the living room.

"You git!" Came England's voice from down the hall. "When the hell will you learn some manners and stop barging into other people's homes!?"

America grinned, anticipation buzzing inside him. It had been quite a while since he had seen England, or, well, seen him for something not related to work at least. The familiar sound of England's voice made heat pool in his stomach. He knew that, secretly, England looked forward to these casual and sudden visits, too, since they didn't have much time for such things, usually. It took eight hours just to get to England's house. (Absently, something about England's voice registered as 'not right' but he ignored it)

"Never, of course!" America chirped, hearing the footsteps get closer. He posed to glomp England and, as soon as a slipper-covered foot appeared in the doorway he lunged. "I've missed you Ig-WHAT THE HELL!?"

America screeched to a halt, slipping on the polished wooden floor and landing on his ass in front of... Well, someone who most certainly did not look like Iggy at all! He stared open-mouthed at the person in front of him, eyes bulging. Shock doused his system, leaving his disoriented from the sudden lack of arousal. (But mostly from the sight he was met with)

The not-Iggy raised an eyebrow in a distinctly Iggy-like way. A _thin_ , _not_ bushy or caterpillar-like eyebrow, in fact.

"Whats wrong with you, America? Usually, you'd be hugging me to death by now," not-Iggy drawled, stepping over him, a cup of tea in his hands. (Why hadn't he listened to that thought that went through his mind about Iggy's voice being higher-pitched than usual?)

"Who-Wha..." America stumbled over his words and stuttered as he watched not-Iggy sit down on the couch, legs crossed and frowning at him questioningly in a way England would do. America scrambled up and pointed at not-Iggy with a shaky finger. "Who the hell are you and what have you done with England?!" He demanded, clearing his throat and blushing when he realized his voice was an octave too high. "Answer me, or the hero will make you regret whatever you've done!"

A very familiar scowl settled over unfamiliar features and unfamiliar black hair went flame-red in apparent irritation. A strangled sounded came out of America's mouth at that. "What the hell are you yelling about, you wanker? I _am_ England, thank you very much," not-Iggy corrected, annoyance coloring his tone.

"No way! That's impossible!" America contradicted, bracing his arms in an x shape and shaking his head furiously, only stopping when Texas nearly flew off the bridge of his nose. He quickly placed a hand there to prevent Texas from meeting a terrible demise at the hands of the hard wooden floor. "England doesn't have such thin eyebrows!" ("Hey! Leave my eyebrows out of this!") "Or..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards England.

Indeed, the England America knew was 100 percent male, lacking the moulds of flesh that were currently upon not-Iggy's chest. (He was certain he knew exactly what Iggy's body looked like under his clothing) Additionally, his eyes were green, not pink-turning-grey with confusion, and his hair was a short and messy nest of blonde, not flaming red shoulder-length curls.

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" Not-Iggy demanded before his eyes cleared and a look of sudden realization appeared. "Oh, you mean... Wait a second." Not-Iggy set his tea down and closed his eyes and, soon, England, eyebrows and all, was sitting in front of America. He opened his eyes and America noted with relief that hey were green once more. "There, better?" He asked.

America narrowed his eyes. It was once again Iggy in his clothing and not the weird changing not-Iggy. However, America couldn't be too trusting, not-Iggy could change his/her appearance, after all. "What did you say about Italy's idea at the last Conference?" He questioned.

"Wha-?"

"Answer me!" America interrupted, unwilling to take the chance that England wasn't who he appeared to be. (He might be an alien who was going to use England's body to take over the world, after all. Good thing it was unlikely, since America probably couldn't bring himself to hurt someone wearing England's face.) "Or I won't believe that you're England."

The look England gave him was that of supreme irritation, a look that America was very familiar with. Despite his annoyance, England indulged him with an answer. "I wasn't able to comment, not even after it was over, since you stuffed one of those disgusting things called 'hamburgers' in my mouth as soon as I started to rant," he said monotonously.

America smiled, satisfied, until he realized what England had just said. "Hey, hamburgers are delicious!" He ignored England's scoff and continued speaking. "How did you manage to do that, anyways?"

"A spell gone wrong. I turned myself into a metamorphmagus by accident," England explained, waving a hand dismissively.

"Really? That's so cool!" America exclaimed, though he had a bad feeling about this and ignored the mention of magic. (England was always talking about weird things like that.)

"What are you doing here anyways, America?"

America grinned, remembering the reason for his visit.

* * *

 

Moans echoed in the room along with the slap of skin on sweat-slicked skin. America grinned, sweat sliding down his face as heat curled around him, his hips driving his aching need into the body beneath him. Legs found their way around his waist, toes pressing into his back. His hands pressed thin wrists into the soft pillows beneath them and he stared into lust-glazed green eyes. 

England was beautiful like this. Unravelled beneath him as he let their bodies reunite after months of only fleeting contact. He was so hot, so wet, inner walls fitting around his length like a glove. 

A particularly hard thrust had England yelping, getting tight around him as his prostate was struck mercilessly. Pale legs tightened their hold and paler arms tugged against the hold America had on them. (Holding England down like this and fucking him was a great turn on for the superpower. He had never thought he would be able to exert control over England like so.) America heard England whimpering as his thrusts got harsher, abruptly. England squirmed and cried out as America's hand went to his straining need.

America closed his eyes, one hand teasing England, the other pinning the older nation down. He could feel it, the pressure building in his loins and, goddamnit, he had forgotten to wear a condom and he'd be sure to get a scolding later, but God who cared because he opened his eyes to find England's eyes burning _red_ with love and passion and-

Wait, _RED_!?

"AAAAaaaaAARRRGHH!"

America shot out of the bed, slamming his head against the ground and scrambling backwards. He clutched his chest, feeling his heart beat frantically in his chest out of shock. England winced and scowled as he got up, uncomfortable from the way America's now wilting erection had been ripped away from him.

"What the hell, America?" England demanded, his eyes red with anger instead of lust now. His hair had turned orange somewhere in the middle of their rough lovemaking, but was now going purple.

"I just- you just- I..." America grasped for words, staring at the colorful hair and eyes. 

He was really starting to hate this metamorga whatever thing.

* * *

 

Iggy had said he would change involuntarily whenever he felt strong emotions. Which meant that cuddling and sleeping with England would be perfectly safe and change-free. After all, you had to be completely relaxed to fall asleep so there was no way this metamega thingy would catch him off guard again! It was too bad it hampered their efforts at having sex. Iggy had ended the night with a cold shower and America was put off by ending with a different person under him as he neared each orgasm. (Traumatized would actually be the right word, since it was really creepy, but heroes did not get frightened or traumatized. Na-Ah, especially not America.)

America sighed in content, snuggling closer to the warm body beside his. He had missed this so much. 

In the drowsy haze of a pleasant morning, he could hear birds chirping, the light coming through the curtains and alighting upon them in a way that was just right. The smell of roses and and tea, England's smell, filling his nostrils. He breathed deep, inhaling the familiar smell of England and tightening his grip on the older nation's waist.

He hummed a little, morning wood settled in the crease of England's ass as if it was a sheathe. He pushed his nose against England's neck, nuzzling the flesh there and making the body of his lover squirm a little. He nibbled on the skin in front of him, drawing a sleepy noise from England.

He was surrounded by pleasing warmth from head to toe and things couldn't be better. He felt the steady rise and fall of England's chest as he hugged him. The soft, even breaths alerting him to the fact that England was still asleep.

A yawn bubbled its way out of him and he stretched his legs, wriggling his toes as the light slowly lured him away from the comforting embrace of sleep.

He should really get out of bed before Iggy woke up and decided he'd treat America to breakfast in bed. He wanted hamburgers today, not scones, even if Iggy's cooking was a nice, rare treat. (Of course, he was the only one who thought that. The last time he had mentioned Iggy's cooking to be good in any way France had fainted and Italy had screamed in horror, Romano and Spain had turned green, Germany, Japan and China had paled and even Russia had looked extremely uncomfortable and disbelieving. Whatshisname-Canada had also commented that it was good that no one else had heard the comment.)

He groaned and blinked open his eyes, trying to blink the sleep from them. He frowned and brushed away the hair that fell into his eyes, yawning and sitting up. He looked to Iggy and watched him sleep with a smile. Iggy was really cu-

"HeeeEEE-YAAAAAH!" His voice went rapidly from a squeak to a scream.

The distinct color change in Iggy's skin and hair pieced through his sleepy haze because instead of being pale from lack of sunlight (like a fucking vampire) as he usually was, Iggy's skin was significantly darker. Now, if this were a handsome shade of chocolate or olive as some of his citizens had, America would've been _just fine_ , but nooooo! Iggy was now the color of blood all over! A dark, violent crimson. But that wasn't all, his hair was polka dotted, neon green on canary yellow and angry black eyes were glaring up at him.

To make things worse, England was rapidly turning back to normal as America gestured and pointed wildly, making England fume even more as he missed the spectacular color change he had gone through.

"AMERICA! What the _BLOODY HELL_ is wrong with you!?"

(In the end, America _did_ end up having hamburgers for breakfast, except that they were extra crispy and, boy, was England absolutey terrifying when he was trying on purpose to make his food taste horrible. He had to be sent to the hospital from food poisoning.)

* * *

 

" _Amerique_!" France's surprised greeting made America look up. "You look like you've seen a ghost, _mon cher_! Was your weekend with England really that horrible?"

America huffed, rubbing his eyes. He was still recovering from England's cooking and shapeshifting. He ignored France, not having any energy to reply, and collapsed into his seat. There were raised eyebrows at his lack of enthusiasm, but he, once again, ignored it.

"What's with you, _Amerique_?" France continued, "You're awfully quiet today."

America groaned, burying his head in his arms. "Shut up. Please," he snapped, "If you can even close that big mouth of yours, Frenchie."

France sniffed, affronted. " _Mon dieu_! How rude. I sh-" He cut himself off with a sharp inhale and America lifted his head curiously in time to see the Frenchman's eyes roll up, his body sway and land on the ground in a dead faint.

"Gah! What is that!?" 

"Ve~! Germany! I'm scared!"

"Holy-!"

"Dear _Kami_..."

"Zhū Bā Jìe!?"

" _Ingleterra_!?"

America stiffened. He had a bad feeling about this. Slowly, he turned his head only to be met with possibly the weirdest sight of England so far. England had... A... A...

A pig snout.

"What!?" England snapped at the room of stunned nations, scowling as stepped inside. He glared at the frozen nations before sighing, probably realizing that something had happened with his meta-thingy ability again. His face changed back to normal before he continued to his seat, stepping on France's probably expensive suit as he went. He sat stiffly and placed his briefcase down, acting as if nothing had happened.

America sighed, too, and put his head back in his arms. He did _not_ want to deal with this.


End file.
